


The Fine-Print

by williamastankova



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Gay Character, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Realization, Shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 08:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21370864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: At Frank's fake funeral, Mac has a realisation, and he can't stop himself from telling Dennis then and there.
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds, MacDennis
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	The Fine-Print

**Author's Note:**

> just a little work to get me out of my writing rut. hope you like it! macdennis prevails 2k19

It's a new scheme. Something or other about Frank faking his funeral to see who shows up and who gives money and whatever else. Nobody's really keeping score, though Mac imagines Frank won't shut up about the number of unrequited love confessions he's gotten as his old flames approach his coffin. It's elaborate, it's masterful, and it's not what Mac's focused on whatsoever.

He's spent virtually the entire event staring at Dennis. The latter has begrudgingly taken on the role of usher, taking names and bringing people to their seats. Dee's off somewhere, flirting with old men to prove her worth as a sexual being (because that makes sense, doesn't it?), while Charlie's busied himself crying beside Frank's corpse-not-corpse. Mac's not quite convinced Charlie understands the plan, what with how he's bawling.

Dennis, on the other hand, has never looked less enthralled by a terrible, morally bankrupt scheme in his entire life. Normally he'd be 100% on board, but now he's looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. His masculine features seem to have been overtaken by gravity, and his normally tall, slender frame hunches over in a primitive fashion.

Mac hands out tissues to weeping funeral-goers, and then takes his seat when the short parade of people stops and ornate music begins. He's sat beside Charlie, who's been pryed away from Frank and all but strapped down into the pew. His eyes are all blotchy and he won't stop sniffing. Mac shifts away.

There's a priest that begins to speak, leaning professionally onto a wooden podium, speaking about life and death and some other bullshit. Mac figures he doesn't really need to hear that, because for one Frank isn't actually dead, and two, when he dies there's going to be a bed reserved in heaven, filled with hot, shirtless dudes, engraved 'Mac McDonald' - just for him. 

He lets himself daydream, just for a second, and the image immediately becomes clearer. The pearly white gates of heaven part for him, and he walks through proudly. There, right before him, is this golden bed with pillars for bedposts, and a sparkling, translucent fabric acting as a cover. He approaches, but as he draws nearer he sees no multitude of dudes. There is, however, one man lying there - no, not a man, a _god_: the Golden God himself.

"Holy shit, dude," he whispers, springing upwards, leaning forward and grasping Dennis' shoulder, "I'm gay!"

His outburst in the otherwise silent church earns a few disapproving looks, primarily from older folks (which Frank's congregation consists mainly of, go figure). Still, he remains undeterred, and looks eagerly at Dennis for a response.

"That's great, man, thanks for that," he replies sarcastically, tone hushed, "Can you keep it down, though? We're kind of at a funeral."

"No, Dennis," Mac shakes his head, and speaks even louder this time. Even he can hear the way his voice reverberates off of the walls as he continues, "You don't get it. I'm gay... for you!"

This only earns more violated looks, and somebody actually groans in disappointment this time. Mac takes this as a great accomplishment and waits, still looking eagerly at Dennis for approval - some sort of acknowledgement of the bombshell that's just been released upon him.

Dennis, however, gives him nothing - nothing at all, not even the slightest hint of a smile - as he urges him to keep his voice down.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," he says, tone flat and deader than Frank is supposed to be. Mac stops speaking, and his beaming smile falls. He watches Dennis for just a second more, then casts his eyes to the crowd, where he finds no sympathy waiting for him in the sea of strangers' eyes. Reluctantly he falls back into his seat, defeated and completely, totally, utterly dismayed.

-

Frank's plan is to lay low for a while, to give the effect of him really being dead. The rest of the gang, though they can see how morbid and morose this is becoming, are grateful for the unfamiliar peace, except maybe with the exception of Charlie, who's gone into full mourning, wearing black and carrying a Kleenex box with him everywhere.

Dee's been chatting up one of Frank's comrades from Vietnam (aka his business partner, aka the man who did cheap labour for him on the side and got none of the credit). Dennis has been in the back office for a while, though nobody's really quite sure what he's doing. Not crying for Frank, that's for sure.

"...and I just don't get why he would do that to me, you know?" Charlie cries to him, burrowing into his shoulder, undoubtedly smearing boogers and tears down his new, blue, tight-fitted shirt, "Like, are we not friends? Did I mean nothing to him?"

"No, man, you meant a lot to him," Mac reassures, and he almost wishes it weren't as true as it is; their relationship is beyond bizarre. "But Charlie, dude, Frank's not really dead. This is just one of his schemes, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know, man, I feel the same way," Charlie says in a dismissive way and sniffles, pulling himself from the crook of Mac's neck and patting him once on the back before taking off into the men's bathroom.

Mac sighs. There really is no getting into Charlie's mind, huh?

At that moment, just as Mac returns to idly watching Dee crash and burn in trying to flirt with a man old enough to be her grandfather, the door to the back office sounds, squeaking in its horrible way of reminding them they need to oil the hinges. Normally that's Charlie's job, but the man's only just begun his grief stages, so Mac figures he's going to be the one nominated to do it next.

"Hey," Dennis says as he comes to rest on the stool beside Mac - the opposite one that Charlie had been occupying. Mac does not turn to face him, too ashamed of his earlier words to do such an inane thing. "What's going on here?"

He knows Dennis is trying to be civil, trying to keep the conversation natural and flowing and platonic, but that's the exact thing Mac hates about it. He doesn't _want_ them to pretend like he didn't say anything: he either wants to go back in time and never say it in the first place (unlikely), or he wants them to address it head-on (even more unlikely).

The question hangs in open air for the longest time, and Mac eventually offers a mere shrug in response. Dennis takes this and runs with it like a holy-saviour of a kite. "Looks like Dee's still trying it on with that old guy from Frank's funeral, huh? Stupid bird."

Dennis laughs, but it comes out forced. He looks to Mac, waiting for a reaction, but Mac keeps his face stoic and emotionless in retaliation. Even if Dennis _is_ being funny, he can't give him the satisfaction of knowing it; he's got to make him sweat a little, can't just give in to their old ways again and forget his own shameful admission.

It takes a minute, but Dennis takes the hint. Pushing off of the stool, he stalks sheepishly back to the office, murmuring all the way, "Someone needs to fix this door."

When he slams it, Mac visibly shudders. They haven't been this cold to one another in _years_, not since Dee - the stupid bird - called them an 'old married couple'. What did that even mean, anyway?

-

Back at their apartment, things seemed impossibly tenser. There never seems to be enough air for the two of them, like Mac's revelation stole it away, and now it's a free-for-all battle - a fight for the death between two ex-friends. 

Mac tries to avoid home at all costs, because it's not really feeling as such lately. He works later at the bar, goes out more til early in the morning, even crashes at Dee's place once or twice (well, forces his way in and refuses to leave) because things are _that_ desperate. This time around, though, it doesn't seem like he's going to get away with another night away without an explanation.

"Tell me, Mac," Dee begins, crossing her arms and standing between him and the TV, "why are you staying over here so much?"

He can only shrug, then lean to look around her to keep watching his show. Still, she seems determined, which is a very scary thing for Dee to be, when considering the life and wellbeing of those around her.

"Something wrong at home, hm?" She prods, and he tries his very hardest to go on ignoring her, showing no emotion whatsoever, "Something happened between you and Dennis? It couldn't be what happened in church the other day, could it?"

Mac swallows hard, and unfortunately Dee sees this. Her face cracks into a sadistic smirk, though she still looks beyond peeved, and she continues, "Ah, so it is! Yeah, I get it. You're in love with Dennis, but Dennis hasn't said anything to you about it yet, so you're trying to lay low and keep to minimal contact with him until he does. Well, let me tell you now, Mac: you aren't going to get anywhere by hiding from him."

He considers her words, digests them and thinks about how the aftertaste taints his palette. He doesn't want anymore, so he shakes his head like an infant eating repulsive brocolli.

"You're not going to get anywhere, and let me tell you why," she says, tone sounding threatening now, "because he's not going to be able to speak to you, because he'll never know where you are! In fact-"

She stops speaking abruptly, but begins to move instead. Going straight for her phone, Mac follows her motions and cries out a terrible, desperate noise that gets trapped at the back of his throat. This doesn't deter her.  
  
Tapping a few times on the screen, she brings it to her ear and gives him a shit-eating grin, like she's proud of the commotion she's about to cause. Knowing there's no stopping a Reynolds when they're on a destructive path, Mac is quick to scoop up his shit (jacket, phone, redundant keys) and leave, not bothering to check he's closed the door before he's calling the elevator, wanting nothing more than to get the fuck out of there.

-

That night, having no other option and in dire straits, he turns to his only other option: Charlie. Thankfully, being to caught up in his own issues and weeping, Charlie lets him in with no issue and, despite having to spend the night listening to his friend go on and on about Frank, Mac manages to successfully evade home for another night without having to describe exactly what has been keeping him away.

The next night, though, he's faced with a dilemma. He doesn't want to go back to his own apartment, but Dee's is totally off-limits and Charlie... well, Charlie's being Charlie, and he refuses to share his king-sized bed with Mac because 'that's where Frank's ghost sleeps', which is totally creepy and self-explanatory as to why Mac will _not_ be going back there until Frank's been resurrected.

He goes to the Rainbow for a while, trying to drink himself into oblivion. He would hook up with some random guy just to get a place for the night, but that seems outright wrong and besides, he's not really feeling a one-night stand right now. More than anything, he wants to go home - back to Dennis, back to his own bed and his own space and his own shit - and so, after more than enough drinks and debating with himself for an hour straight, he does just that.

He creeps back into the apartment, still not wanting Dennis to know he's home. His phone tells him it's almost half two in the morning, which should mean Dennis is asleep by now if not banging some chick he picked up off of Craig's list. This is good news, even if it's not, because it means Mac - hypothetically - can just go into his room and collapse in his bed for the night.

This, however, is not how things go, because when do hypotheses ever work as stated? Well, he doesn't really know that, because that's a lot of thinking and smart stuff, but basically the second he walks through the door he steps on a creaky floorboard he's forgotten about after crashing at so many different places, and grimaces.

The sound echoes throughout the apartment, and within twenty seconds or so Dennis is emerging from his room. He doesn't even look sleepy, the bastard.

"Mac, hey," he says, sounding almost frantic, scrambling to find words to say like he wasn't expecting Mac to come home. It's hardly surprising, given the circumstances, "What- what're you doing home, buddy? I mean, I'm glad you're back, but-"

"Didn't have anywhere else to go," the alcohol bubbling through Mac's veins makes him bluntly honest, and he doesn't mind it one bit. 

"Well, yeah, alright," Dennis says, looking confused, almost but not quite hurt by Mac's words. This makes Mac smile.

"Charlie's delusional, and Dee's a bitch," he gives this brief explanation of his whereabouts for the past few days, then grins wider, though he's pretty sure it's sardonic. "Must run in the family, hey? A family of apathetic, psychopathic, manipulative-"

"Yeah, alright, Mac, I get it," Dennis interrupts before he can finish with his satisfying curse word. He must be hearing how Mac's words are slurring, because he's suddenly honest himself, which is a true rarity, Mac's come to learn. "Hey, listen, man, I want you to know- about the other day, I don't... it's fine. I mean, it's not just 'fine', it's- Jesus, I can't do this right now. You need to get to bed."

Almost on cue, Mac stumbles and almost falls straight on his ass, only stopped by Dennis' quick reactions. The latter catches him by the arm and, despite Mac trying to shake him off, manages to bring him to stand and lean on his shoulder for support. Somehow (Mac assumes with great difficulty) Dennis gets him into his room, and starts taking off his shoes for him as he sits idly on the bed.

"Listen," Dennis repeats, like there's something else happening that could be distracting Mac, as he deftly undoes his flatmates laces, "I just want you to know that... I don't hate you. That sounds worse than I meant it, but- you know what I mean."

"No, Dennis, I don't think I do," Mac crosses his arms, wanting Dennis to do the work for himself - for once in his goddamn life.

"Well, Mac- you mean a lot to me, and I don't think you know that sometimes," he shakes his head, preparing to correct himself, "No, I don't mean it like that. It's not your fault; I was brought up to be like... you know, cold. Emotionless, or whatever. I don't show people how I feel enough, you least of all. And I'm sorry about that, man."

Mac sits up straighter, taken aback by Dennis' sincerity. He processes the man's words for a moment, then nods.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, Dennis," he nods, more certain of himself and his friend now, and he lets himself smile, just a little. The corners of his mouth tipping upwards seem like the greatest reward for Dennis, who beams and puts Mac's shoes neatly onto the floor.

"Goodnight," Dennis bids him as he leaves, switching the light off as he does so, and yeah, Mac supposes it is.

-

It's been a while since Frank's funeral now, and between the absense of the man in the bar and Charlie's relentless weeping, Mac's beginning to think he's actually gone and died. Even so, the show must go on, and so he's decided to take it upon himself to fix the terrible, high-pitched squealing emitted by the office door, for the good of everybody involved.

He's kneeling, pushing and pulling the handle to test the sound, when a shadow comes over him. Looking up, he finds Dennis standing there, watching him rather intently.

"Dude," he says, sounding and feeling genuinely creeped out, "Weird. Stop it."

He brings himself to stand, leaving his tools and a job well done as he walks out to the bar. It's empty, save for a defeated Dee (who apparently had failed to get even a pensioner to hit on her) and a wailing sound coming from the men's bathrooms, which is almost definitely still Charlie. He goes to head behind the bar, but a hand catches his wrist and stops him.

He turns back to look at Dennis, who he finds looking at him as though he were Jesus himself. He looks awe-struck, aghast, like he's seen the ghost of a dead loved one or something of the sort. He sounds sincerely taken-aback as he observes:

"You fixed the door."

Mac smiles at this, knowing Dennis is pleased with his doing, and begins, "Yeah, man! I thought, since nobody else is going to-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence, because suddenly Dennis is taking him by the face and kissing him. It's so gentle, so unlike everything else Dennis does, that Mac can't even comprehend it's happening at first. Soon, though, when he feels Dennis continue, pressing more and more into him like he's desperately trying to pour his emotions into him, Mac realises that this _is_ real, and he _isn't_ dreaming like he usually is when this happens.

With this realisation, he pushes back into the kiss, bringing fervour and passion and his own emotion. While he wants Dennis to know he wants him, he doesn't want to make it seem purely physical. After all, he's in love with him, isn't he?

"No, no, no, no, no!" 

A sudden voice breaks into the bar, echoing and bouncing off of the walls, coming back to hit Mac straight in the eardrum. He squints and pulls back from the kiss, cursing whoever had ruined his first kiss with Dennis. He swore to kill them, wanted to make them pay for destroying such a personal, tender moment. The person that had _dared_ interfere with him and-

"Frank?" Dennis asks, not even needing to look to see who's speaking. Whipping around, his eyes lay on the sight of the short man, who is standing with his arms folded, watching his son-not-son as he presses his lover into the bar. 

"It was just getting good!" Dee complains, pointing over to Mac and Dennis, who give her equally confused looks, neither of which she answers.

Dennis shakes his head and continues, "We thought you were dead, dude."

"Yeah," Dee agrees, snorting, while Charlie sobs only harder, looking in disbelief at the revenant that is Frank.

"What? I told you guys that I wasn't-" Frank's forced to stop speaking when Charlie launches himself at him, gripping him tight around the middle, restricting his air.

"Yeah, no, totally," Dennis says, dismissively, then casts his gaze between Mac and Dee, "I was trying to figure out where you left your will, because I wanted my share of your stuff."

"I was doing that too, actually, yeah," Dee concurs, and it sounds like she should be showing remorse in that moment, but she's never looked prouder to be a terrible, awful person.

"My shit ain't going to either of you bastard twins," Frank states matter-of-factly, then pulls Charlie back and cups his face, "It's going to Charlie."

"Charlie?" The other three chant in unison, and Frank only nods in response, then diverts the topic.

"Yeah, and for one," he gestures over to Dennis and Mac, who still have their limbs intertwined - a fantastic hangover from their previous making out, "You two can stop kissing in my bar. If you're going to have sex, at least do it outside in the dumpster."

"Ew, Frank, gross," Mac can't stop himself saying, actually feeling ill from the suggestion. Not the former, mind, but rather the latter addition. "If we're having sex anywhere, it's in our apartment, on the bed or the couch or somewhere not infested by vermin."

"Exactly!" Dennis exclaims, like Mac's the only one left here with an ounce of sense in his head, "Speaking of, we should really get going, because it's almost closing time and..."

He trails off and Charlie, who has his eyebrows furrowed, takes this vacant space as his own. "But we've only just opened, guys, and-"

"Yeah, well, Charlie," Dennis interjects, "We have to go home still! Okay?"

There's a deafening void that fills the bar after Dennis yells, but nobody protests further when he exchanges a loving look with Mac and interlaces their fingers, leading him proudly out of the bar, beginning their way home with anticipation and ideas of what is to come swimming about their brains and making them feel all hot and tingly across their bodies - which are finally about to become one, after years of build-up and clueless concealment.

Meanwhile, Charlie, Dee, and Frank remain in Paddy's all sat in mutual quiet, not quite sure how to continue with their regular lives after what's just happened. After all, it's not like it's a normal week where Mac confesses his love for Dennis, then proceeds to play an intricate game of cat and mouse, all for Dennis to come straight up to him and plant one on him.

This silence is promptly broken by Charlie, however, who seems to have an epiphany of his own, and his eyes sparkle with realisation as he announces, "Oh, they're going home to have sex!"

Well, there goes the magical, mystical quality of it all. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed this. leave a comment if you did! I love reading them all :)


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